


Gasoline

by struggling_creature



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Eating Disorders, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt Tim Drake, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Introspection, OOC, Self-Destruction, Suicide, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tim Drake-centric, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:27:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28377711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/struggling_creature/pseuds/struggling_creature
Summary: He's always been made of gasoline, if only he knew it was his fate to burn.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Alfred Pennyworth, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Tim Drake & Jason Todd
Comments: 6
Kudos: 110
Collections: TimDrake works you should read





	Gasoline

**Author's Note:**

> please check the tags. the ed and sh are mentioned for around 1 line each, but its still there. the suicidal thoughts are very heavy and a main theme of this, as well as self destruction is. take care of yourself
> 
> tim drake angst cause im a simple tim drake kinnie, and i dont have enough confidence to write an angst fic for my other kin

There are things he should be doing. Productive things, working, patrolling, research or something. Or, if he were to ask for an outsiders opinion, he should be sleeping. But instead he’s here, crying his fucking eyes out over how illogically lonely he is. Instead of being a productive member of society he’s fucking crying in his stupid childhood bedroom at Wayne Manor as the memories and nostalgia of it suffocate him. 

It’s Christmas, or rather it was Christmas seeing as it’s 12:48 AM the day after. It’s the night of (after?) Christmas and all that Tim is doing is sitting on his bed in his childhood room in Wayne Manor at almost 1 AM crying his fucking eyes out over his stupid memories and the stupid, suffocating loneliness that followed him everywhere and stalked his every move. 

Christmas day started… well terribly. Like it always did. It started with staying up until 4 AM spiralling further into the hellish depths of his mind, and wishing he was dead. Unfortunately, this is his only upheld Christmas tradition. Staying up far too late wondering why he had to be born, be alive, and be pushed into this hell of a life that he was stuck with. He laid there numbly for far too long, far too aware of the fact that his brothers were only down the hall. He could get there attention, tell them something is wrong, and Tim considered it. He really, really considered it, before the voice in his head, the one that hates his guts and thinks he doesn’t deserve to be alive, piped up and reminded him that not only does he not  _ deserve  _ help, but that they wouldn’t even care. They might pretend to out of pity, but god knows they don’t really.

So he’s left back at his starting point of his yearly Christmas mental breakdown, and like usual he reaches the same conclusion. That he should just die. That he should just go to the med area of the batcave, grab the strongest stuff he can, and take them all. Overdose and die, and he’d be free of all of this. Everyone would prefer it if he were to “kick the bucket” too. They’d care when Jason died, but why wouldn’t they? Jason may have had his… bad moments, but he was still a lovable, caring person who people  _ could  _ and  _ do  _ like. He cared about Jason so much, even after his brother had tried to kill him multiple times.

But it was unreasonable to expect that that same care would apply to Tim as well. Unlike Jason, he was unloveable and undeserving of love. Unlike Jason, he didn’t have a good personality, and even if he did care he didn’t deserve care  _ back _ . He didn’t deserve anything, he didn’t deserve to be alive. Everyone had made that damn well clear enough. Damien had tried to kill him. Multiple times. He hated Tim’s guts with a passion. Dick replaced him with Damien, took Robin away from him, when he needed it most. When his father had just fucking died and he had nothing else left. If that didn’t show how little Dick cared, what did? And Jason… Jason also tried to kill him multiple times, but it was different from Damien. He never expected anything different from Damien, and while he valued Damien’s opinion on most things (even on things he shouldn’t) it was still so very different from Jason. He loved Jason before he ever met him, Jason was his light when he couldn’t find any other hope. When his parents were constantly on trips, and he didn’t have  _ any  _ friends, he still had the hope he got from Robin. Jason’s Robin, who was what kept him going for so long. 

Even after Jason died, which  _ destroyed  _ Tim, while he kept going about his day as normal he still felt it in everything he did. The loss of what was his motivator, of what kept him afloat made some days hard. Some days he just wanted everything to stop. Permanently. Some days he wanted to join Jason, some days he couldn’t find it in him to care about anything, about school, about his photos, about his parents, because  _ FUCK  _ he lost the one thing he cared about. He didn’t really care about anything else so why did they matter? Why did he have to keep going with them when with how things were going it probably wouldn’t make a difference.)

Some days he wondered if Jason was happy wherever the hell he went.

Some days he almost tried to join him.

But in the end Tim fucking  _ lived  _ and he kept going. He took Jason’s place as Robin, because it would be cruel to Jason to let the city he had spent so long protecting fall apart. It’d be even crueler to let his father figure deviate so far from his goals and morals, and destroy himself. It’d be cruel to let Jason’s fucking  _ dad  _ be the cause of his death, lose his life to his self sacrificing, self destructive bull shit and not even die a meaningful death. 

So Tim took over as Robin. It was difficult to do, because Bruce clearly did not want anything to do with Tim, and really who can blame him? But he did it, he pushed and pushed and pushed, but he fucking did it. And he did… he didn’t do great. He didn’t do as well as his predecessors, didn’t get even close to Jason’s sheer fighting skill, or Dick’s maneuvering and acrobatic prowess, but sometimes it felt like his intellect could make up for it. Usually it didn’t, but sometimes it did. Sometimes it felt like he was finally  _ enough  _ and sure he was different from the other Robins, but it wasn’t in a  _ bad _ way. Sometimes he felt like he wasn’t a disappointment of a person, and he could-  _ WAS  _ helping. Then he’d fuck up. And Bruce or Dick, or god forbid Alfred, would tell him, point it out to him, explain to him what he did wrong as if he hasn’t analyzed it and thought about it an unreasonable amount of times in the short amount of time since it happened. As if he hasn’t punished himself enough with whatever unhealthy coping mechanism it is for that day. As if he hasn’t punished himself enough with the drowning, screaming voices telling him what he did wrong and how utterly worthless he is. 

But even with all this, with the poisonous perfectionism, unreasonable standards, and the family that never truly wanted him there- being Robin was enough to keep him going. It kept him going, kept him alive, gave him a reason-a  _ purpose  _ in his life so he kept going. And then Jason came back to life. And Jason… Jason was  _ mad _ . Jason hated Tim’s guts from the beginning, hated him for even trying to replace Jason and well- well that was fair wasn’t it? Tim didn’t think he was, but he was just trying to replace Jason, wasn’t he? Trying to fill a role, fill the shoes of someone, that he can, and never will, be. And no matter how much it hurt, how painful it was in each attempt on his life, no matter how much it felt like it was burning Tim alive from the inside out, he never was mad at Jason. 

So, Jason hated him. And that hurt more than any of the others. Having the one person who kept you alive for so long, kept you going for so long, hate you and want you dead? It fucking hurts. It feels like you’re being stabbed in the chest, in the heart. Feels like you’re filled with the gasoline of false promises and hopes, and their anger, their hatred, their sheer fucking lack of acceptance is the match that catches you on fire. Feels like so much heat, so much fire, so much burning, burning pain destroying you from the inside out, burning your soul to ash before moving onto your body. It makes you want to end it all. 

And last, was Bruce. Alfred would be included, but Alfred didn’t  _ hate  _ Tim, worse he  _ pitied  _ him. But Bruce, Bruce hated Tim from the start. From the day that Tim showed up on doorstep to Wayne Manor, asking-  _ demanding  _ to be his new Robin. Tim wouldn’t be surprised if Bruce hated him before, saw Tim with his parents at one of the galas and just felt this instinctive disgust and hatred towards him. As if he could sense the rotten, disgusting, core of this timid, scared, child who is, and always will be, too small, too weak, for the role he was meant to take, for the footsteps he would need to fill. He wouldn’t be surprised if from the beginning he could tell how Tim was a puzzle piece that wasn’t meant to, and never would, fit anywhere. If he could see from first meet the putrid core of this  _ child _ , wondered if from birth he smelled like gasoline, that same gasoline that fills his entire being, fueled him to start as well as burning him out and eventually bringing his end. 

He wondered if everyone, Bruce, Dick, Damien, Jason, his parents, the people at school,  _ everyone  _ could see it on him, the brokenness, the faulty way Tim works instead of the peaceful, happy, lives everyone else led. He wondered if they all could see the way he was filed with this combustible, flammable, powerful, destructive gasoline that was simply waiting for it’s time to set him on fire. If they could see this and stayed away so they would not be burned as well. Saw this and pitied him, someone who was doomed from childhood to be his own demise. Saw this and hated him for continuing to use supplies, and stay close to people when it was clear he would only end up burning anyone who got too close. Hated him for yearning for someone who would be with him, who he could trust, who would love him when all he would do, be  _ able  _ to do, was burn them and hurt them as well. And worst, saw him. Saw this child so close to destroying himself, one lit match away from starting his fall, his spiral, his journey into unwellness before he ultimately caused his own death. Saw this boy, and laughed before throwing a lit match into the gasoline, before watching as his insides burst into flames, as he continued to destroy himself slowly before the inevitable day where he would give in and let the flames consume him, and  _ die _ .

But anyways, Bruce never really cared for him. He only took him in, trained him, because Tim got to be too annoying. He only helped him when he learned of his parents negligence, and later after his parents’ deaths, out of pity. Even after Tim saved Bruce from the timestream, he simply ignored Tim. He cared for and missed everyone else, but not Tim. He never even checked in with him, or said hi, or talked to him outside of Wayne Enterprises and cases. 

Even though it hurt him, burned him to his core, made the flames leap a little higher, made him wish they’d overtake him in that moment, he wasn’t mad. Why would he be, when this reaction was the only logical one? Tim had never fit in, he was never meant to be in their family. In all honesty, he was never a part of it. He simply played a stupid fucking play pretending that he was, that he might eventually fit into it, and belong in it. He never did though. 

It was with these thoughts and a heavy heart that Tim went to sleep with, before hoping he wouldn’t wake up the next day.

Obviously he did, as he’s still fucking alive almost 24 hours later. On Christmas day it was mostly the same as always, people spending money on him out of pity, pretending to like what he got for them, having at least two breakdowns where he started crying. Bruce showing his true cards once at lunch, before half heartedly apologizing later on. It was too late now that he had confirmed what Tim already knew though. He simply wanted to be understood, wanted to talk for five seconds about something that helped him, that made him feel like he wasn’t just crazy, that maybe with some adjustments he could be a normal, functional person. But Bruce interrupted every time he tried to finish what he was saying. Eventually, after he had interrupted five times Tim yelled at him about how he was only trying to finish his sentence and Bruce simply told him that they already got the point of it so it doesn’t matter what he was saying. That only served to confirm what he already knew, that no one wanted to hear him talk. That he really was just defected and broken, and annoying, and useless and Bruce… didn’t care. Of course Bruce approached him later and apologized for saying this, giving a bullshit excuse of how stressful Christmas is for him, but Tim already knew he was only doing this out of obligation. He wouldn’t have said it if he didn’t mean it.

The other breakdown only confirmed what he knew, about how defective and broken he was. At Christmas dinner he not only could barely eat a small plate of food, but he also hated himself for eating that much. After this, his stress started to build more, with the voices constantly chiming in on how he was fat and ugly, and didn’t deserve to eat. When his stress peaked he started noticing some sensations. His sweater was wrong and was rubbing against his skin uncomfortably, but he couldn’t take it off due to his cuts and scars. The sounds of the other’s plates and knives, and the sounds they made as they ate all converged while also staying painfully separated, and he could hear each and everyone person individually using their knives and forks, and knocking their glasses on the table, or their plate, on accident, and he could hear how someone was tapping their fingers, and the smell of all of the foods was too much, it was all too much and he needed to get  _ out _ . So Tim simply lied, made up a bullshit excuse, and left. No one even seemed to have paid attention to his leaving, though.

Now he was left to think all of this over, as well as the painful, smothering, burning loneliness of being alone in a room full of people. Being lonely, being alone, in a space where everyone else has others, has eachother, but he has no one. No one knows who he is, checks in on him, or really cares about him. Some pretend to, but many don’t even hide it. He misses having physical contact with people. He misses the few touches he got from his ‘family’, that were few and far between but the only physical contact he ever got. He misses Bruce patting him on the shoulder after a good mission, he misses Dick ruffling his hair, he misses Dick pulling him into a big, warm, lovely hug that for a few seconds made him feel like everything would be okay.

He yearns for the happy, proud smile Bruce has on his face when he looks at his children. He yearns for the clingy way that Dick insists on cuddling during movienights- or  _ fuck  _ having them in the first place. He was never a part of them. He yearns for the stubborn, almost tsundere, worry Jason has for his family, and how he would no hesitation hunt down and kill anyone who hurt them. He yearns for the way Damien brings Alfred (the cat) to the others on bad days, yearns for the stubborn, hidden care Damien harbors for his family. He yearns for the way Alfred prepares their favorite meals for them after they’ve done especially well, for the happy, proud sparkle in his eyes when he sees the others. He yearns for the love, the bond, the care everyone else has for each other. He yearns for the way that even though some may have difficulty communicating, they know that they can trust the others and how they are known by everyone else. 

He yearns for how everyone else is known for who they are, and not some bullshit mask that they put on to try to be even slightly useful to the others.

He yearns for how they don’t have to prove themselves, they just can exist and that is enough for the others to appreciate them, care about them, take care of them,  _ love _ them. 

* * *

  
  


...Tim doesn’t know how he got to the top of Wayne Enterprises, he doesn’t remember anything.

He doesn’t remember what time it is, what day it is, what he was doing, or how he got here.

He just knows that now...

All he knows is that now…

He’s finally giving into fire, finally letting it consume him as everyone knew he inevitably would.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> hopefully there will be another chapter. well see.
> 
> edit 2/4/2020: ok so i prob will update this at some point i just am working on a second multichapter fic rn too. so the question: if anyone sees this would u prefer an update to this first or posting the first chapter or two of the other one (a platonic hanahaki fic) first? ill prob do both just. cant make a decision.


End file.
